#How do y'all like my fireman?

[iveneverplayedmegaman]

Pg. 188!

The boys come up with new recipes! (Do not try at home)

We got ice cream, soup, and DEATH

This one's a flashback comic, I might do more of these in the future :)

[carolmunson]

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down. 

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery. 

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.” 

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you��re not sure how much later. 

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere. 

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.” 

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?” 

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?” 

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.” 

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?” 

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?” 

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow. 

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on. 

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you. 

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before. 

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears. 

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough. 

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.” 

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.” 

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.” 

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly. 

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you spit. 

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.” 

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death. 

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.” 

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily. 

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.” 

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.” 

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper. 

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge. 

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.” 

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.” 

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat. 

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story. 

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you. 

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[littleplantfreak]

Down to my level

Headcanons Ft. Umemiya Hajime, and Togame Jo

These guys are 6'2 and I think 6'1 respectively so have some writing about being shorter than them cause I'm 5'7ish and wanna climb them like a tree literally. Some ended up not being about height because i got off track thinking about Ume's arms //shrugs

Umemiya Hajime

Loves ruffling hair and he thinks it's endearing when you try to do it yourself to him. Catch him while hes squatting in the garden for perfect ruffling opportunities. (maybe a smooch or two as well)

He will seat you on things when he's kissing you so he doesn't get a cramp in his neck, or better yet just wrap your legs around his waist and he'll hold you up. Give those big arms of his a workout, he'll be more than happy to hold you.

Can't help but grab things for you if they're too high. If you have a problem with that he makes sure to have a step stool. (Just stop putting things so high? Nah he thinks it's cute when you're on your tip toes)

King of carrying - once again he is a big guy so he can do princess carries, piggybacks, fireman's carry, you name it. He's even tried carrying you under his arm like a football though it's not the cutest carry to be in.

He's easy to pick out in a crowd even if he didn't have white hair so you don't really have to worry about losing him.

Blocks out the sun really well or if you're hiding from someone you can basically disappear behind him.

His height also helps in games of chicken fights when you're in the pool or at the beach. Sturdy af AND tall? Y'all are unstoppable no matter how short you are.

"How's the weather up there?"

"Oh! Wanna find out?" Before you can answer he's wiping his hands off and scooping you up effortlessly, arms looped around your waist. Hands resting on his shoulders, you're a few inches taller than him like this. "What do you think?"

"Crystal clear skies...approximately 76 degrees fahrenheit and," you lick the tip of your pointer finger, sticking it out, "wind is blowing from the west. Not to mention the scenery up here is so much prettier than down there." He puffs out a laugh when you gaze at him a little lovestruck as you say the last part.

"You think I'm pretty?" he whispers, looking up at you for once.

"Illegally so." Your answer is so serious it's got his heartbeat taking off and he couldn't fight the smile if he tried.

"Y'know my normal weather man told me the exact same thing this morning!"

"So he's my competition?" You huff and giving him a pat on the arm signalling for him to put you down. Instead, he lowers you just enough so you're eye level with him, noses brushing lightly. Being this close you can smell the dirt from his gardening and the lingering of his minty shampoo from earlier this morning.

"You win every time sweetheart."

Togame Jo

Uses his height for good - usually. Kisses the top of you're head when you aren't paying attention to him.

If you're a brat he'll hold something you want just high enough for you to start jumping for it (thats the evil). He's impossible to knock down or and weighing his arm down to grab it doesnt work either. If Choji's around you can enlist his help in getting it since his jumps are always impressive. He accepts payment in candy though.

Also a carrier. He likes piggybacking you places the best. Especially in the winter cause you're extra toasty.

He's good at typing hair up and can help whenever you have a bad hair day. He's got a full view so he'll fix it as soon as its messed up.

loves being dragged down by his shirt to be kissed. He wears that gi sometimes though I don't know if thats the correct name for what he wears. In jiu jitsu its really solid and tough near the neck areas so you can pull and maneuver you're partner around? In any case when I see him wearing it I just wanna cross collar grip it and drag him on the floor (lovingly I swear) (I think its a gi?? I know he wears monks clothes so they might just be really similar)

You are not in a good mood. Togame's holding the last strawberry ramune over your head with a small frown and refuses to give it back. If anything you should be the one frowning. Sure you snapped at him because you were a bit grumpy, and it wasn't even his fault but you're tired, it's raining, and thats the last strawberry ramune.

"All ya gotta say is 'sorry' doll. I'll even open it for you if you want." he drawls slow as ever.

"I can get it," the words are punctuated by small hops and desperate grabs at air. You're even more winded than before and Togame's just deciding whether he should give in when Choji rounds the corner. A small gasp as a light bulb goes off in your head seeing Shishitoren's leader. "Choji I CHOOSE YOU!" You yell, pointing straight at the drink being held hostage. He moves before any thought can cross his mind as he makes a high jump between the you and Togame, successfully grabbing your prize. As he's handing you the ramune, you root around your hoodie pocket for the last few candies and trade him.

"Nice doing business with you! That wasn't very nice though Kame-chan" Choji chirps and waves before being lured away by the sounds of the other members laughing and talking about going out for karaoke.

There's a moment of quiet before you peek to the side to stare at your boyfriend. You realize you haven't been nice either and bite the bullet. Roll the ramune over in your hands, you look down at your feet.

"I'm sorry I've been grumpy at you. Think I'm just tired. 's no excuse but-" The drink is gone, being popped open by deft hands before Togame gives it back with a silent nod.

"There's a couch in one of the rooms down the hall. Want me to carry you?"

"You gonna lay with me?"

"That's the plan, yeah." Whether it's from the weather or from fighting with you, you can tell he's tired too.

"Good. And yes please." Your voice is soft as you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"There's my sweet girl," he grunts, hoisting you up in a princess carry and making his way to one of the back rooms further from the noise of the other boys in the theater.

[campingwiththecharmings]

for minigirl87

Hi, congratulations 🎊 on your 1 year anniversary. Could I request, please. Poe Dameron and the AU firefighter. I used to clean in a fire station and have a thing for firefighters, plus I could could easily see Poe as a fireman, lol. Take care ❤️

Some Like it Hot

For @minigirl87

AN: Another fic-aversary request! I know you sent this to me via messenger AGES ago and you probably don't even remember doing it but I need you to know that Firefighter!Poe has had me in a chokehold ever since lol. THAT SAID, I have no idea if this is what you were looking for but my muse is a whore (esp for Poe) so here we are. Absolutely shameless smut, very, very little plot. Hope y'all enjoy 😌❤️

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,297 Pairing: Firefighter!Poe Dameron x Photographer!F!Reader Warnings: PWP, p in v, strangers to lovers, praise kink, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

Somehow, you’d known that it would end this way.  

Well, maybe not this exact way—with you fucking a smoking-hot firefighter in the dark room of your studio—but the second he’d walked into the room, you’d known something was bound to happen. Granted, you’d been thinking more along the lines of a coffee date or, if you were really lucky, dinner.  

The Universe had other plans, it seems (and who were you to argue?). 

His strong fingers grip you tightly as he fucks into you from behind, every powerful thrust of his hips all but knocking the breath from your lungs. A choked moan escapes you as he hits one of your sweet spots, cunt clenching around his (considerable) length and pulling a groan from between his lips. You feel so good, so full, the pleasure zinging through your body as he drags himself in and out of your slick heat.  

You don’t normally do this—this being fucking someone within hours of meeting them, without even knowing their full name—but there’s just something about this guy—Poe—that makes you wanna give him everything. 

It had started innocently enough, just lingering glances and a bit of flirting, but the tension had grown between you the longer the shoot went on. More than once, your gaze had lingered, unable to stop yourself from admiring him—with his leanly muscled body, chiseled jaw, deep eyes, and that stubborn curl that kept falling across his forehead. He could tell you were into him; you’d known by the way he’d looked at you. 

Normally, you were more professional while you worked, more respectful of the vulnerability of your subjects as you shot them. You’ve never felt this before though, this pull, this need, and it surprised you how quickly you’d thrown out all your principles for what you assumed was just a one-time thing. 

“Taking me so well, sweetheart,” Poe slurs, the pace of his thrusts faltering slightly as you flutter around him. “Fuck, feels so good.” 

You can’t help the whine that escapes you at his praise, your fingers gripping the edges of the counter he has you pressed against. You kind of wish you could see his face (you bet he looks stunning when he comes), but he’s hitting you so deep like this it’s a little hard to complain. 

He grunts when you flutter around him again, your fingers aching as your grip on the counter tightens. You’re so close, can feel the tension coiling inside you as he spears into you again and again. You push back to meet him and he moans, his cock somehow reaching even deeper inside you, electricity zinging up your spine. 

“Please,” you breathe, unsure exactly what you’re asking for. 

He seems to know though, adjusting his thrusts so he can lean forward and slip his hand between your thighs, calloused fingers immediately finding and circling your clit. You whimper in pleasure as a myriad of sensations race through you, your arms shaking as your body is pushed closer and closer to the brink.  

“You’re right there aren’t you, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his voice thick with his own pleasure. “You’re so close, squeezing me so tight—” 

All you can do is moan in pleasure, in agreement, the combination of his cock and his fingers making you feel almost drunk. 

“Need you to come for me,” he pants, more of a plea than a demand. “Need to feel you.” 

Without warning, Poe pulls you up from the counter so your back is flush against his chest. Your mouth falls open in surprise, a noise somewhere between a squeal and moan escaping as he grinds up into you, his thrusts slower now but no less devastating. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, head lolling back against his shoulder as he groans in agreement.  

He’s just as far gone as you, it seems, his thrusts a little sloppier now as he nears his peak.  

“Pussy feels like heaven, sweetheart,” he slurs, his mouth and tongue molten against your heated skin. 

You feel like you're drowning, like he’s suffocating you with pleasure. You need something, something to hold onto, something to keep you grounded. You reach back, plunging your fingers into his soft curls, gripping them for dear life. You’re so close, right there at the edge, the tension inside you wound so tight you feel as if you might burst.  

Another brush of his fingers against your clit is enough to send you soaring over the edge, your body shaking in his arms as your release slams into you. Poe’s groan is choked as you convulse around him, but he fucks you through it, mumbling words of praise and encouragement in your ear as waves of pleasure surge through you (“That’s it, baby, soak my cock. Oh fuck, yeah, just like that, oh good girl—”) 

He stills a moment later, spilling his thick, hot cum deep inside you, his strangled moans muffled as he buries his face in your neck. You relax a little as you come back down, the solidity of his body against yours comforting. You stay like that for a moment trying to catch your breath, the two of you panting and half naked in the middle of the room. After what simultaneously feels like two seconds and an hour, he pulls back a bit from your neck, leaving a gentle kiss at the top of your spine that makes something in your chest ache.  

“Okay?” he asks, his voice soft and a little raspy. 

You hum, nodding as you allow yourself to melt into him a little, your body going limp in his hold. He chuckles softly, tightening his arms around you and pressing another kiss against your neck. For a moment, you let yourself pretend, pretend that the two of you aren’t strangers, that this isn’t a one-time thing, that he’s yours (and you’re his). 

He slips out of you with a hiss, the loss of him dragging you back to reality. Your legs feel like jelly, but you manage to stand on your own, shakily pulling your clothes back on before turning to face him. Considering the position you were just in, it’s silly how awkward you suddenly feel. You lean against the counter behind you, chancing a glance up at him; the soft smile on his lips makes your heart skip a little. 

Ugh, he looks just as gorgeous in the red light of the dark room as he did when he’d waltzed into your studio hours ago. A part of you kind of hates him for it. 

Before you can say anything, he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you kiss him back, your arms winding around his neck. His hands settle on your waist, pulling your body against his as he licks into your mouth. You moan softly, completely lost in him, in the way he’s making you feel. When you part for air, he presses his forehead against yours, your pants mingling in the small space between you. 

“Go out with me,” he breathes, his nose bumping against yours. 

You huff a laugh at the request (demand?), fingers tangling in the curls at the base of his skull. He smiles again, his lips brushing over yours. 

“Probably should’ve asked that before, huh?” 

You laugh again, still breathless. “Better late than never.”

His laugh is husky and the sound of it makes something warm settle in your gut. “I appreciate you being so understanding.” 

You bite your lip, smothering your smile. “I know you’ll find a way to make it up to me.” 

He hums in agreement, a playful gleam in his eyes as he leans in to kiss you again. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 fic-aversary masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

PART 2

[orionsangel86]

Sometimes I forget that since branching out into other fandoms I may be exposing myself to ppl who like proper loathe SPN and Destiel and I can't really help that so I'll just say that ultimately, there will always come times when I will transform back into a Destiel blog and make a lot of memes and jokes and yes, talk about how the events of November 5th 2020 were rather huge for the media landscape and yeah sure, this firefighter show has had a big moment today and I know that some of y'all will be annoyed and bitter that SPN fandom has once again made it all about them. Except thats not what we are doing. We are celebrating WITH YOU because we are HAPPY FOR YOU and the way SPN fandom celebrates anything is to poke fun and make memes and just have a good time with it.

We are all fucking traumatised and dealing with PTSD from that fucking show let us have a laugh about it on this hellsite whilst we can. There is nothing malicious about it. If you find it annoying, blacklist the tags. I tag EVERYTHING. Its not hard to blacklist and if its that big a deal to you, just unfollow me. If youre gonna get pressed about some Destiel jokes and the claim that your bisexual network TV firefighter might owe SPN SOME small measure of thanks for the attention it drew to fandom and the popularity of queer ships and the need for queer representation on that insane night 3 years ago then just unfollow me cos I'm always gonna hold that viewpoint.

I'm not sorry about it and I'm gonna take my fun where I can. And I'm fucking happy for your bisexual fireman. Thrilled for him and you that you get that in your fandom. Theres no bitterness here at all. Why would there be? Just enjoy the moment and ignore the stuff that bothers you.

[multifandomimagines999]

Hi can you do Brian Quinn x wife reader where your reaction to Q:the musical where your in the audience with his firemen buddies but also your children then transition to where Q puts the boys to the fire men academy and he show's his kids what it means to be a fireman

A/N: Enjoy!

Future of the Department

Pairing: Brian Quinn x wife!reader

You and Brian met working at the same fire department and after chaotic years of friendship, you finally admitted your feelings for each other. Now you're happily married with a 10 week old son, Logan.

Now your little man was almost 2.5 months and y'all were getting the hang of things. Logan was on a better schedule and you were able to get at least a little bit of sleep.

But today Logan and you were helping Q get punished. He knew he was performing a stupid play in front of professional actors. What he didn't know was that instead of actors it was you, Logan, and all our firehouse buddies. Lucky for me Logan was asleep when we arrived.

We took our seats in the front. As soon as the play started, Logan was up and alert. I held him in my lap as Brian came out on stage. When he saw all of us out there he couldn't even speak he was so embarrassed. He continued through the play and towards the end Logan let out a squeal of excitement which grabbed his father's attention. I guess he hadn't noticed Logan was here because he was too caught up in everything else. His eyes went wide and he dropped his head again.

"You brought my son into this!" Brian exclaimed into his ear piece/mic.

"It's okay. You're already an embarrassment. This is nothing" teased Joe.

Brian finished up the play and our coworkers began throwing shoes at him which caused me to laugh. Filming stopped and the guys were done shooting for the day. Brian went out and was talking to our buddies while I walked around rocking Logan.

"Did you enjoy daddy looking like a doofus?" I cooed in a baby voice to which he squealed back, "I'll take that as a yes".

"Look at you. Already teaching him the word doofus" smiled the chief.

"Chief!" I cheered and carefully hugged him, "It's good to see you! You weren't at the station when we stopped by last week".

"My wife was sick, so I had to take care of her. But the guys were telling me all about this little man" he stated, looking at Logan, "You are just adorable!"

"Thanks" I chuckled.

"You know, I'm proud of you kid. You've come so far since your first days at the firehouse. You're one strong woman" he praised, "And now here you are married to Quinn and a mom to a little guy. You've done well for yourself so far".

"Thanks. I bet nobody would have guessed Brian and I would wind up together".

"Oh no. We took bets on if and when you'd get together. Eventually we just kinda dropped out until we heard the news from Quinn, and then we made bets on your engagement".

"Well who won?"

"You're looking at the winner".

"Nice chief".

***

"So this is where Mommy and Daddy trained," Brian smiled as he had Greyson on one hip and our daughter Carly on the other.

Logan stood beside him. I stood behind Logan, hand on my bump as we were expecting our fourth child. Brian showed them our graduation pictures and showed them some of the training areas. All three kids were excited hearing all of our stories.

"I wanna be like mommy when I grow up!" Carly cheered, making me grin.

"You can baby girl."

I looked over at Brian, even more head over heels in love with him. The way he interacts with our kids, how passionate he is, he is perfect.

[givemetherapyimawritingtravesty]

@noots-fic-fests

Me? Scheduling this one to post ahead of time? Sometimes I get a win okay lol

I've had this idea since the moment I saw the prompt and knew it's what I wanted to write. I don't feel like I did it the justice it deserves but the idea is too bitter sweet and I hope y'all have enjoyed my too short ramblings these last 13 days.

Remember: spooky season isn't over! It's a state of mind *taps temple pointedly*

Remus made his way upstairs quickly, having waited for Sirius to lay out their Halloween costumes and call him up. He took the stairs two at a time and made his way the the bedroom where the door was cracked open. He pushed it open as he entered the room and saw Sirius standing next to the bed, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt nervously.

“What do you think?”

Remus’ eyes wandered to the bed where two costumes were laid out; a striped referee shirt with a whistle and a yellow fireman’s uniform, hat included.

“I was thinking maybe we have a bit of a resurrection. Of the old ones. But this time you’ll be the fireman.”

“Baby,” Remus breathed, his heart doing a funny thing in his chest. It was doing loopty-loops as his brain tried to figure out what to think about the suggestion. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I want to. And you know the team has been asking how and when we- you know. And it was then. Halloween night. That I finally… that we talked. Kind of got together.”

“You consider Halloween the anniversary of that? Not your birthday dinner?”

“I mean, kind of? The Halloween party was first, and for me, that was a bigger step. Confessing how I felt. Learning you felt the same,” Sirius made his way over to Remus, taking his hands in his own. “Besides, we can’t give Dumo the satisfaction of confirming it’s because of him we got together. We would have sorted ourselves out eventually, I knew that for sure after that night.”

“You know they have bets going on when we first got together? I guess we never did officially explain that. You know, since we never really got to tell them anything at all…”

“I know. Which is why I want to share this, now. Something back in our control that we can tell them. Share with them. I want that. And I want to see black soot smudged on your face while that white shirt hugs all your new hockey muscles. You have no idea what you do to me. Not that I was any less attracted to you before you bulked up, but merde, loup.”

Remus laughed and leaned in for a quick kiss. “So that’s your nefarious plan. To oggle me all night.”

“And throw flags on the play when you’re too hot… oh wait, I think there should be one right now…” Sirius trailed off, tugging Remus towards the bed.

“You are devious. We still have to clean the house and cook before the party tomorrow–”

“Worry about it later. Give me an hour, then you can go back to your vacuuming.”

“Fine,” Remus says, though he’s holding back a smile. He willingly let’s Sirius pull him down onto the bed and cover him in promising kisses.

[that-gothickitty]

Gender identity and Pronouns ofc: Male, he/him, fae/faeself

Mbti type: INFP-T

A detailed description of your personality: Kind to everyone I meet but fiercely protective of those I care about, quick to give grace but strong sense of justice, can be vulgar/silly but know when to be quiet/pay attention, help my loved ones even to my own detriment

Likes: Writing, singing, theatre, reading, ASMR roleplays (obvi)

Dislikes: phone calls, spiders

Things you look for in a friend and/or partner: Honesty, open communication, sense of humor, kindness, showing interest in my interests

Thinks that are a deal breaker: Making fun of someone for something they can't change in 5 minutes, unnecessary lying, guilt tripping, manipulation, rude to servers, yah know murder *side eyes Tumblr Mother*

Pet peeves (When it comes to things and people): Dog earing books

A list of characters you relate to and why: Huxley's kindness and willingness to help, Damien's dislike of stereotypes and passion for making the world better than he found it, Sam's caring heart, Vincent, William, and Porter's flair for the dramatic, Guy's humor, David sense of justice, Gavin, just Gavin, Geordi's thought process,

Here's some stuff that isn't compulsory but definitely helps!

A physical description of yourself: Chin length brown hair, hazel eyes, 5', round face

Listener(s) you feel most connected to: Darlin', Freelancer Prime only please

Yippee! Okay, you're gonna get a giggle out of this one. This match was meant to be and it's just so perfect jsjshshsjh

Your match is:

Drumroll please 🥁

🥁

🥁

🥁

🥁

🥁

Our strong, loving, down to earth himbo...

HUXLEY!

Oho I guess this man definitely has a thing for Damiens, and you, my friend, are no exception.

You really hit the jackpot here, this man can literally do no wrong and will MAKE SURE no does any wrong around you. He admires your equal inclination to protect those you care about and your helpful nature. But don't get things twisted here, he will not stand by and let you neglect your needs. He will haul your ass in a fireman's carry and plop you on your couch to rest. And God help you if you try to protest, this man can and WILL sit on you.

He'd make a playlist about you. THERE I SAID IT! And knowing you, you already have one for him. I can see it being a cute lil thing where y'all go on a roadtrip to visit his moms and he puts it on and afterwards you play his and HEHGSHSHSHSHS IM GETTING CUTENESS AGGRESSION.

Speaking of his moms, they absolutely adore you! In a lot of ways, they see their son in you and it warms their hearts to see how you parallel each other so well. I hope you have a large appetite because these ladies can cook up a storm! Be prepared to be included in the process, and hopefully, you brought a change of clothes 'cause once the first handful of flour is thrown, you're in for a massive food fight ;>

PLEASE let this man put lil flowers in your hair. He'll get so goddamn happy at the prospect of decorating you with the finest blooms. Bro will giggle. He can't help it. You just look so handsome he can't contain himself.

Man is just whipped. He doesn't have to tone down around you or explain himself when he does something that makes him happy. You just get how he operates. He's so thankful that you understand his humor, his quips, his protective nature, everything. He's grateful that he can share so much with you and that you feel comfortable enough to do the same with him. And, he loves the fact that you two are so similar. It's what started your friendship in the first place.

At the end of the day, the only thing that matters is that you're both safe, happy, and protected. Deep down, he's so immensely grateful he's not the only one keeping things together.

[mylittleredgirl]

i have now seen strange new worlds 1x3 "ghosts of illyria"! as expected, i am enjoying this show a lot :) i know una is the big headline here and i'm working up to it but:

i loved every scene with pike and spock! my guys <3

spock was really note perfect in this. ethan peck doing mister nimoy proud with that "fascinating"

hair and makeup crew on the other hand not making mister westmore proud with spock's worm on a string sideburns. those are not starfleet issue!!

uhura and kyle are both just kind of There but i am extremely happy every second they are

having to turn every light off on the ship while having a blind engineer and not doing anything with that seems like a miss

hemmer and la'an are the craziest people on that ship. like a warp core explosion and beaming up something that's ten thousand degrees are the MOST extra possible ways to resolve a problem that could probably have been handled by cranking the dial up on a tanning bed, but that's a very good thing to know about both of them

speaking of la'an. girl.

i get that they're trying to make her off-putting and kind of unlikable as a character starting point, and that they have to work REALLY HARD to do that because whenever christina chong frowns she looks like a sad kitten santa claus left on your doorstep, but babe. after the space racism and almost blowing up the ship, i feel like you could maybe work up a lukewarm apology, if genuine compassion is off the table

i do like what it says about them that la'an didn't lie to una about how she really feels, it just Ain't About You right now

una would have been making you an accessory to a federal space crime and endangered the commission she helped you to get!!! i feel like the "why didn't you tell me" goes unsaid here

let's talk about how i am IN LOVEEEEEEEE with m'benga

(i really warmed up to spunky chapel too!! they are great together)

but M'BENGA MY BELOVED

how is he so hot and also so competent and kind

and a good dad???? are you kidding me

i am. really into him right now.

SPEAKING OF HOT AND COMPETENT...

for the hero of the hour....

una is truly great and i trust her with my life

and thank god i do because y'all really love her, and i wasn't sold on her in her discovery and short trek appearances, so i was really holding out hope that i would see the light and BOY HAVE I

it's fascinating to me how little of the Una In Command episode took place on the bridge. like who's got time for that with all the new sets to explore, i get it, but i wonder about that moment when she seemed so hesitant to sit in the big chair??

she kicks so much ass and pike likes to endanger himself on the regular so this can't be a rare occurrence

OHHHHHH maybe it's because she's having Am I Worthy Of This Uniform When I Lied To Get It thoughts. ok. i get it now.

anyway. oh to be fireman carried by una for a long hero shot down an empty hallway

and yeah i WILL be replicating that manicure as soon as humanly possible

her phasering hemmer was so great i fuckin love when problems get solved that way. Just Stun That Guy

okay here me out on this one though: i am really torn about the ending, but this is more of a story choice than a character choice

so many people know about una's illyrianity now that it would be pretty impossible to keep that from pike without a conspiracy endangering the careers of multiple officers, so her telling him personally and him accepting it is the way the episode had to end, and it was a good moment for both of them

(even though? all those officers are actually STILL probably on the hook for this, come to think of it)

pike would absolutely want to know regardless, and una knows him well enough to know that he would

BUT i would REALLY have loved for this to be resolved with somehow only una and m'benga knowing, so they could keep each others' most important secrets for a while

i do realize this unravels some of the episode and takes out chapel and la'an's moments but go with me

picture m'benga saying he won't tell anyone, or "here's my medical log on what happened" and it's not that, after una has just offered him the same deal

because she IS endangering pike's captaincy by bringing him into this secret, because she must also know him well enough to know that he won't really arrest her

MOSTLY una and m'benga were fantastic together in every scene. they are both extremely competent and mature, and to have them share this... i just think it would have been potent and cool, especially if they let these threads drop for a while before giving other characters a reason to suspect

last thought: illyrians are so cool as a concept though?? terraforming yourselves? DANG how did it take us 600 hours of star trek to come up with that one!!

last last thought: are we just going to like. leave the screaming disembodied illyrian ghost friends there tho. without even trying to communicate and see if they need help. after they saved your lives????? i guess so!

deleted scenes:

hmm, i think it would have improved the episode to include the rundown on who the augments were up front, and specifying that the illyrians are a separate deal who didn't start out as humans (OR DID THEY???? like una saying "illyrians are their own people" seems to imply that they did not, but it seems kind of wild that una is an actual alien and NO ONE EVER NOTICED?)

but that guy clowned about it too hard so i see why they cut it. it could have worked well with a little more dispassionate starfleet othering and superiority though.

that said, it would have been HILARIOUS exactly as written if that guy were kevin thomas riley

imagine if they had created a canon where kevin thomas riley was on the enterprise for a wholeass decade, never getting promoted because he sucks but never sucking enough to get full on fired

upon further consideration:

OKAY I WATCHED THE UNA AND LA'AN STRAWBERRY SCENE AGAIN and it's pretty sweet actually. i can get behind this. i can ship it, i can friend-ship it, i'm in. keeping my eyes on this one.

not seeing the sexy pikeuna chemistry quite yet but i'm keeping my eye on that too

who else should i be 👀??

[gamerkats]

Hey, besties. *heavy hearted sigh* Look....

If, in your reading travels, you happen to stumble upon some cis/het/idiotic toxic trope/shameless depthless book and you go, "Huh, that style kinda looks like gamerkats. Wait. Is... Is that gamerkats trickin' on the other side of Literature Street!?", just go on about your day, 'kay?

Don't tell your friends and try to drive traffic to our curb. Don't live your sleuth truth messaging us saying, "Found you!" Don't rally all the mutuals and stage a "don't write this garbage, you're better than that" intervention in the DMs. 👏 Move. 👏 Along. There's nothing to see at this crime scene.

Girls gotta eat, and that "toxic guy/mean girl I can't believe it's not butter plot twist" money spends.

Even though it's not what we enjoy writing, it's what a massive audience enjoys reading. No shame in their kink game. It makes them happy, and us a little cheddar.

We don't kink shame in this house!

Why are we saying this? Because a couple of you are scary good, and have seen through our street name, and wanna reveal that we're not "cis/het Heather" but actually two Queer cats in a trench coat. Don't. We're not even being polite and saying please. We're straight up telling you to mind your business.

If we wanted you to read what we were doing as a side hustle, we would have been advertising our stuff here. Obviously, we're trying to protect our safe spaces. You don't know the types of readers this stuff brings.... To the point that, we don't even have a socmed account for this shit. It's just a pen name and a quick write/publish into the digital void; where grammar dies on the literary battlefield, clutching originality's fallen corpse.

Trust us. You're not missing out on our stories. It's cheap, greasy fast food, when y'all are getting the home-cooked meals, ok?

We're sharing our Queerest of passions for free with y'all on AO3/Wattpad. Other than obvious fanfic stuff, everything is our IP. We could sell if we wanted. But we just don't like the feeling of paywalling our Queer rep when it's so desperately needed.

No shame to those who do paywall. Support those Queer writers!!!!! Sell your Queer works!!!! This is an "us" thing, not a commentary on Queer writing thing. We have our own pains and traumas and writing Queer fiction for free is how we chose to heal some of them.

The flip is, we also kinda need monies too.

To like, you know, live.

So we made a choice. Free the Queer, paywall the 'Bad Boy Fireman Cowboy Next Door Is Answering A Five Alarm Rodeo In My Bed'.

Surprise.

We're sellouts...like every other writer who wants to eat. We try really hard to mask our style, but it's apparently still there. So, if some found us, others will eventually. Don't make us change pen names and start from scratch.

Here's the exchange:

Y'all get the free real Batman version of us, who's raw, unfiltered, gritty, quirky, Queer as fuck, soul searching, human existence commentary, romance-nightmare diary entry, trauma coping, disability struggling, weirdly poetically surviving, bimbo nerd chic.

And the randos pay for the Bruce Wayne who's a mentally healthy, sassy, fiery feminine icon, living in a cabin by a lake, drinking wine and eating chocolate with her soulmate husband and two dogs.

We don't trick where we treat, ok? So don't snitch and ruin a girl's hustle. You don't ask us why we're there, and we won't ask you the same.

We both didn't see shit.

Ok. Kiss, kiss, love, love. Sorry we're not independently wealthy. Bye. 💋❤

Edit: 😂😂😂😂 Ok, so, by the powers of sheer whining from you beloveds, that you want smutty stuff without plot too, fine. You're right, that's only fair. We're already writing a lot, BUT how about this, all the cutting room floor and unpublished practice scenes will be scooped up, and posted under a fic title called, Miss Kitty's Fabulous Empornium or something. We'll even slap some reader x character, and villain x hero names to hide what books of ours they belong to. 😉

[nice-myriad]

for the headcanons thing, can you do dukesaw??

<33

I see y'all in my inbox. Sorry it took me a while to get back to these

Veronica loves to kiss Duke on the forehead/temple.

Heather is the only person that Veronica allows to call her Ron, and she calls her that more often than her full name.

Veronica picks Heather up all the damn time. She carries her bridal style, fireman style, over her shoulder... Heather's face flushes every time.

Heather loves to come up and hug Veronica from behind.

She also enjoys draping herself across 'Ronica's lap. Sometimes she rests her head there while she reads.

Duke started crushing on Veronica not long after she joined the Heathers. Heather already knew she wasn't straight and had her Cishet Mask™ at the ready. She figured she would just hide her crush and it would go away. Easy!

It did not go away.

Duke was not great at hiding it, either.

Chandler once made a comment about how Heather follows Veronica around like a lost dog. Heather was mortified.

[hangmanssunnies]

If y'all haven't read this, drop what you are doing and go read it ASAP!!!!!!!

Listen, I don't even like christmas or the holiday season. However, with Javy Machado in a santa suit and I would be the best elf in the workshop; I'll be showing up for elf practice several hours early even. Catch me being like the mayor's wife in the Grinch or whatever. All this to say, if anyone could sell me on Christmas, it would be Javy. AND OH BOY... Sana you SOLD this fic. Coyote was so damn sexy and dorky and hot and sweet that I nearly perished at least 7 times.

Thank you for writing and blessing us all with this fic! Some thoughts below... I will not be held responsible for any slightly unhinged reactions. You already know how the way you write Javy gets to me.

Javy Machado is, yes, with out a doubt my personal hero. Thank you for knowing that.

I loved how good he was with the kids

HE HAS ALREADY MASTERED THE TWINKLE IN HIS EYES.... YEAH YEAH HE HAS

RJ knowing that Cross is Coyote's girlfriend and also being hella sus of santa made me laugh so hard. A very I caught mama kissing Santa Claus esque moment.

I know Coyote has been a really really good boy this year ... b ut I think that Cross is going to have making sure he is rewarded all taken care of with out santa's help.

"He was so strong, so big, and you knew he loved holding you, nearly as much as you treasured being held." I AM UNWELL OH MY GOD CRYING SCREAMING SOBBING YEARNING

. “Not the actual aesthetics, just, like, the idea of them…the idea of older you. Silver fox Javy, you know, graying and—” ummmmmm yeah silver fox javy..... also forever with him...... growing old with him............ gets a gal going. How could it not?

"The twinkling lights cast a golden glow into the otherwise dark room, and even in the shadows, Javy looked so damn sexy. He shifted in the seat, his thighs spreading, and planted his boots on the ground. He still held your hand, and you really did feel like you were standing in front of a throne," 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 on my knees immediately..... he's so sexy oh my god

" “You look like a damn fireman calendar,” you told him, your voice somewhere between amused and chagrined at the perfection that was a shirtless Javy Machado in red velvet pants and thick black boots, reclining in a garish throne." 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

"You decided that indulging the fantasy couldn’t hurt, and you guided the suit jacket up over his shoulders again. You tipped your head to the side, regarding your amused boyfriend. ��" I am giggling and twirling my hair and kicking my feet. Thank you for including this detail for me specifically. he is so god damn hot. <3 <3 <3

Honestly, all the smut was so so hot I could have highlighted the whole thing with the panting and dizzy eye emojis

I loved that they talked about getting a condom. Protection is a very hot and important part of sex. I appreciate they you included that conversation and still made it sexy.

Javy's dirty talk was so fucking hot all of it. I was .... Yes. just yesssss.

"He had such a pretty cock. " yes. I know this for a fact. I know this for a fact just like i know the sky is blue. You're just so right. thank you for the reminder.

"You looked so good together; it was amazing that he fit, that you could take him. You could feel his eyes on you, knew he was watching your face as you were watching where you were joined. " 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 I am dead. I am alive. but I have died.

He's got a huge dick and I love him. so true

"Loved that he was fighting for control but he still found breath to encourage you, soothe you, care for you. Your face felt wet, from sweat or tears, you couldn’t tell, but you made it the final few inches" He is the man of all men. I love him. FUCK HES SO HOT TOO

“Do you think,” Javy’s voice was still breathless, but took on a teasing lilt, “you were naughty or nice this year?” - I laughed. I love him actually because..... this was everything in the middle of their hot intimate moment and I loved it.

"God, he was such a dork, but he was also so hung, and you couldn’t handle both at once." I really cannot handle both at once, it's too much. He is too much.

“Riding me so good, baby,” Javy mumbled into your shoulder. “Being so good for me, honey, you’re always so good for me. My best girl, my beautiful, best girl. Sweetheart, I’m close, are you close?” <3 broke my brain. I lost brain cells so asdhkjlfafg I wish I had better things to tell you than this was hot hot hot hot sexy delicious and hot. But like.... that's what I've been reduced to.

"They were a gentle light, soft when you opened your eyes, illuminating Javy’s profile like a poem. Sweat slicked between both of your bodies, and you didn’t want to think about the state the suit was in. You could feel Javy’s heartbeat through his chest, a pounding rhythm, strong and steady as he was. " he is the most handsome of the men. I love him so much wow. The way you write Javy is poetry as far as I'm concerned.

Thank you for this wonderful hot, amazing fic. I know for a fact I will be coming back to reread it again. I just love Javy Machado so soso so sooooo much. And the way you write him is just perfection. 💗💖😭💗💖

santa baby (been an awful good girl) // coyote x f!reader

pairing: javy coyote machado x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: coyote dresses up as santa + reader is only human = reader and coyote get it on in santa's workshop

word count: 6.6k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: unprotected sex, explicit PiV sex, a bit of dumbification, slight overstimulation, lowkey desecrating the concept of christmas but like in a hot way

A/N: i...i have no excuse. thinking of javy being dorky during sex has effectively ruined me. merry chrysler

The second Sunday in December was the tree-lighting at Miramar. 

The event entailed, of course, the lighting of the tree at the center of base, but also a crafts market, an ugly-Christmas sweater competition, and breakfast-for-dinner, but most importantly: a meet and greet with Santa. 

While it wasn’t required attendance for any of the Service members, most everyone who wasn’t on leave found some way to be involved. You found yourself at the cookie decorating station, trying to teach kids a modicum of restraint, and sneaking glances at your boyfriend over in Santa’s Workshop. 

That’s right, Javy Machado – distinguished Lieutenant, Louisiana’s finest, and your personal hero – was currently drowning in red velvet and faux ermine, dressed up as jolly old Saint Nick. His diamond-sharp jawline was hidden behind a monstrosity of a fake beard, but he had managed to master the twinkle in his eye. The night was winding down, but he showed no waning energy, just endearing interest in each and every child that made its way into the small structure. 

You could just barely see him through the front window of the Workshop, but every time you looked over at him, your heart fluttered. 

It was the way he hunched his shoulders, clearly trying to diminish his size to make himself seem less intimidating. 

It was the way he met each child’s eye, exuding comfort and kindness. 

It was how after a couple of minutes, even the shyest child seemed to relax against him, how their smiles brightened and their giggles echoed around the family center. 

You knew Javy was a total sweetheart, but it made you so proud to see how special he was making this Christmas for each of these kids, some of whom were having a dark season with their parents being deployed. 

There was a clatter and you looked away from the workshop to find RJ, one of Payback’s kids, looking guiltily up at you, holding an entire paper plate covered in Snowman sprinkles. The faint outline of a sugar cookie was visible under the blue-and-white pile, but not by much. 

Good thing it was only the ninetieth time this had happened today. 

“Happens all the time,” you said brightly, keeping your voice happy so the kid wouldn’t panic, and thinking of a diversionary topic. “Did you see Santa already?”

RJ nodded, willingly distracted. 

“He said he’d get me a Lego set!” he said, the slight lisp in his voice absolutely adorable. “A Lego set!” you repeated, folding the plate slightly so that you could pour the excess sprinkles into a dixie cup. “One of the Star Wars ones??”

“Yep!” RJ told you excitedly, his eyes widening, the sprinkles dilemma forgotten. “With an X-wing, so I can have a plane, like Daddy!” 

You finished pouring off the sprinkles, and turned the still-overly-sprinkled-but-now-recognizable-as-a-cookie plate back to RJ. He grinned up at you through a missing tooth and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Payback might be nearly as bossy as Mav when you were up in the air, but he did have damn cute children. 

You were halfway through helping RJ with a sleigh-shaped cookie when the Christmas music they’d been cranking turned off with reverb, and someone cheerily announced over the loudspeaker that it was time for the festivities to draw to a close. Overhead lights turned on, dispelling the ambiance created by thousands of christmas lights, but you were halfway through the cookie, so you two kept working on it. 

What were they going to do? 

At some point, Reuben came over with a couple wrapped packages tucked under his arm, giving you a grateful look for keeping an eye on his son. 

The only warning you had was RJ’s reverent gasp and the widening of his eyes before you felt familiar hands on your waist and an unfamiliar beard scratching your neck. 

“Santa,” RJ breathed, and you tried to delicately step out of Javy’s grasp as he realized he couldn’t exactly greet his real-life girlfriend while there were still kids who believed in the magic of Santa within eyesight.

Javy cleared his throat and you pressed your lips together to hide a smile as you watched your boyfriend stand up straighter under the boy’s worshipful gaze.  

“RJ,” Javy said, his voice pitched lower than normal, to disguise it, and you noticed he was avoiding Reuben’s gaze pretty determinedly. “Doing some serious cookie decorating, I see?”

RJ nodded animatedly, holding up his plate to show “Santa” and nearly tipping both cookies off it in the process. Reuben dove for it, and you tried not to laugh, leaning lightly against Javy. You noticed absently that he must’ve taken the suit padding out, because you could feel his stomach through the red velvet.

Unfortunately, when RJ looked up from his plate, he noticed your lean, as well as Javy’s hand on your hip. He frowned, his small forehead wrinkling, and he tipped his head up at Javy. 

“That’s Coyote’s girlfriend,” he told Javy archly. 

“Uh,” Javy stalled, and you again found yourself fighting the urge to laugh, “yes. And…that’s why I want to steal her away for a moment. Coyote’s been a really good boy this year, and I want to talk about what kind of present he would want.”

RJ’s eyes narrowed, and he was about to say something else, before Reuben gave an exasperated sigh. 

“For God’s sake,” he muttered, reaching for RJ’s cookie plate, effectively poaching the boy’s attention. 

“Let’s show these cookies to your Ma, yeah, Junior?” he asked, before turning back to you and Javy. “And you two– behave.”

He spun on his heel, and RJ waved enthusiastically to you before following his father happily, and you turned to Javy, smiles breaking over both of your faces. 

“Not your most graceful, lieutenant,” you teased him, but Javy was already looking around the recreation center. 

With the overhead lights on, and the Christmas music off, it was rapidly emptying. Teams had already been tasked to come in tomorrow to clean it out, so for now everyone was clearing out, trying to get their kids home before the sugar crash set in, and Javy’s gloved hand found one of yours. 

“Come on,” he said quietly, in his normal voice, and you followed him instinctively when he tugged lightly on your grasp. 

You were surprised when he led you back over to Santa’s Workshop, and you ducked into the entryway. 

It wasn’t a large space, something constructed of red and green painted plywood pieces, barely big enough to accommodate Santa’s throne. The throne itself was a replica of the Iron Throne that Fanboy had paid a preposterous amount for, and had been convinced to donate to the greater good. He had then had to be led away from in agony, as Army Wives sanded down the pointy edges, and repainted the swords as candy canes.

“Nice digs, Santa,” you said wryly, your sentence ending on a squeak as Javy pulled you into his arms. 

Kissing him with the fake beard was funny, but his mouth was distracting enough that you soon forgot. 

You melted into him as you always did, your hands pressed against his broad chest. Javy’s strong arms banded around you as he kissed you hungrily, like he’d been waiting, like he’d been missing you. He tasted like peppermint, like the candy canes the “elves” (Natasha and Jake) had forced on him any time he started looking bored. 

When he pulled back, you were breathless, blinking up at him slowly. 

Javy smiled at you softly, his own chest rising and falling underneath your hands. He was so unbelievably handsome, always, but you loved his sweet smile. 

Especially how it looked from this close. 

“Hi,” you whispered, and Javy groaned, leaning down to kiss you again. 

His tongue swept into your mouth, and your knees almost buckled, causing you to cling to his shoulders. He was so strong, so big, and you knew he loved holding you, nearly as much as you treasured being held.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, and you felt your skin heat. You were just wearing a festive sweater under a pinafore-style skirt, aiming for comfort and festivity over something that accentuated your figure.

“It’s just a–” you tried, but Javy made a disapproving sound and kissed you firmly, interrupting your rationalization. 

“Beautiful,” he insisted, after a moment, and you nodded dazedly. 

Javy hummed, approving, and he shifted to pull off his gloves. A moment later, you felt his index finger under your chin. He tilted your head up towards him, and his kiss turned gentle, indulgent. 

“I could feel you watching me, you know,” Javy murmured, between kisses. 

 You shivered when his thumb brushed over your jaw. 

“Hard not to,” you managed to say. 

Javy laughed, a low, warm sound, that you felt like a caress. 

“What is it, honey,” he teased, brushing light kisses up your cheek, and ducking his head to reach behind your ear, “the red velvet doing it for you?”

You let out a breathy gasp when you felt his teeth ghost over your earlobe. 

“‘Course not,” you mumbled, but it didn’t sound convincing. 

It actually wasn’t the red velvet. 

It wasn’t even how sweet he had been with the kids, which was pretty darn sweet. 

“What was it?” Javy asked, as he kissed down your neck. 

You shivered as his tongue and teeth teased you. When he reached the collar of your sweater, he nosed it aside, and sucked lightly at the space where your neck met your shoulder.

“The glasses,” you blurted. 

You felt him hesitate, and he pulled back, looking at you amusedly. 

“The glasses?” he echoed, and you tried not to squirm. 

“Well, and the beard,” you admitted. “Not the actual aesthetics, just, like, the idea of them…the idea of older you. Silver fox Javy, you know, graying and—”

With a whoosh, the overhead lighting in the recreation center shut off. 

You turned to look out the window, surprised to find that no one else was left in the recreation center. They had cleared out quickly and the large room was suddenly dark, except for the lights strung around the “roof” of Santa’s Workshop. 

When you looked back at Javy, his teeth gleamed as he smiled.

His hand trailed down his arm till it tangled with yours, and he pulled you deeper into the workshop. 

“Javy, we should go–” you started to protest, but you broke off when he sat on the throne. 

The twinkling lights cast a golden glow into the otherwise dark room, and even in the shadows, Javy looked so damn sexy. He shifted in the seat, his thighs spreading, and planted his boots on the ground. He still held your hand, and you really did feel like you were standing in front of a throne, a queen to his king.

“It’s just us, honey,” he said, his voice deep, and you were having a hard time coming up with a response. Not when he looked this good, not when he was looking at you like that, not when you could already see the outline of his hardening dick against the inside of his velvet suit. 

God, what a thought–velvet and Javy. 

Your mouth practically watered, and when Javy tugged lightly on your hand, you let him pull you. You stood between his spread legs, the throne tall enough that you barely had to bend down to kiss him. This kiss was impossibly slow, leisurely. 

Javy’s hands trailed down your body, settling under your ass as he pulled you closer to him. You whimpered as his touch pulled you flush against him, his body hard against you, and his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass. Your own hands ran over his chest, around the back of his neck, anchoring you to him.

His big hands kneaded your ass, and you whimpered against his mouth when he guided you slightly sideways, against where his dick rested on his thigh.  

You felt your kisses turn lazy as he overwhelmed you. 

His big hands, his strong thighs, his hot cock, his broad chest…you felt your knees weaken as the kiss deepened. 

Javy knew, and he pulled back, giving you space. His hand found yours again, and he led you from between his legs, before reaching under your skirt. 

His touch was slow, certain, as his fingers trailed up your thighs to your waistband, where he found the edge of your tights, and slid them down your legs. He went slowly, and you were grateful for it; your head was spinning and you didn’t feel like you could catch your breath. You watched as he pulled the tights down your thighs, prompting you to step out of your shoes first. 

“Here, honey,” he prompted, guiding you to balance on the thick toes of his boots, so you wouldn’t have to stand on the floor, before he peeled your tights off. 

That thoughtfulness, combined with the determined carefulness with which he undressed you, sent another wave of arousal for you, and you followed his instruction without thinking. 

His hands were back on your legs then, reaching under your skirt again, up and up, and you shivered when his hands ghosted over the front of your underwear. 

“Were you telling the truth?” he murmured, his voice low, and you pressed your lips together to trap a whine inside your throat. “Am I gonna find you worked up under here?” 

You weren’t sure until his fingers pressed between your thighs. 

And then you moaned, you couldn’t help it. Javy’s fingers pressed into your center over your panties, his touch collecting your arousal and you felt the drag of wetness between his finger, the thin fabric, and your skin. 

Javy hummed his approval, and his pleasure had you bowing into him. 

“Javy,” you whispered, not sure what you were asking for, but certain he would know. 

“C’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling you into his lap, his hands not leaving your panties, but still keeping you covered by your skirt. He guided you over his thighs, your legs spreading to rest in his lap, and you immediately were obsessed with the feeling of velvet stretched over his strong thighs. 

You looked up at his expression, and you felt your heart flutter. 

Christ, he was so beautiful. 

His expression was one of intense focus, but the panes of his face were so gorgeous, all the more for the fondness between the both of you. 

You pressed yourself up to kiss him, knowing you’d stumble over finding the words to tell him. Javy’s lips were so soft, his mouth so gentle, and the hand that wasn’t under your skirt cupped the back of your neck. The tenderness in his touch coupled with the strength in his hands was a heady combination, and you melted into his arms again. 

After a couple long, sweet kisses, you felt his hands move against you. 

You broke away from his kiss, breath catching as Javy dragged a thick finger over your now soaking panties. 

“You’re so warm here,” Javy murmured, his voice almost reverent, and your hands splayed over the red coat, grasping whatever you could. The pressure of his hand and the deep timbre of his voice were enough to drive you mad, and he knew it. 

“You feel so good, honey, so inviting…” Javy continued, and he pushed your panties aside. 

You whimpered at the first brush of his fingers against your core, slickened by your arousal, and warm against your skin. Your fingers scrambled to undo the red coat, fumbling with the buttons until you had the jacket undone, and you could feel the familiar cotton of his white undershirt. 

It wasn’t enough, you needed his skin. 

“Off,” you mumbled, and Javy chuckled as you pulled weekly at the bottom of his undershirt. It took some maneuvering, but you got the jacket off, then the undershirt, and then decided the beard and hat – while they had their charm – needed to go as well. 

And then you were breathless for a whole other reason. 

“You look like a damn fireman calendar,” you told him, your voice somewhere between amused and chagrined at the perfection that was a shirtless Javy Machado in red velvet pants and thick black boots, reclining in a garish throne. You decided that indulging the fantasy couldn’t hurt, and you guided the suit jacket up over his shoulders again. You tipped your head to the side, regarding your amused boyfriend.  

“Some mom in New Jersey would lose her shit,” you told him honestly, and it probably should’ve made you jealous, but it made you just so damn thankful he was all yours. 

You watched Javy’s abs contract as he laughed, pulling you back to him, and you smiled as he kissed you. You loved that it was like this with him – playful and fun, as well as just so fucking hot. 

It only took a moment for the laughter to fade from your kiss, and Javy’s hand was back inside your panties a moment later. 

He pulled a finger through your folds and your head fell back at his tease. He gathered your arousal with his finger, pulling his hand back up to the top of your slit. He found your clit easily, a familiar path, and when he pressed firmly, your legs jolted. 

“You’re Coyote’s girl, aren’t you?” he said thickly, and you wondered if he was thinking back to what RJ had said, or if he just liked the thought of you being his. Either way, you nodded weakly, overwhelmed by the pattern he traced over your clit. 

Javy turned his head so he could kiss your neck again, his lips pressing into you, tongue teasing you in a motion that mirrored his fingers at your core. You leaned into him, loving his strength and his focus on you. His hand, his mouth, his broad chest, all had your head swimming, and building up a heat within you. 

Your hips were moving, rocking into him, and you felt empty, needy. 

“Answer the question, honey,” he murmured into your neck, and he pulled back his hand to readjust. 

“Yes, Javy,” you breathed, forming the words feeling like a gargantuan effort, “yours.”

“Damn right,” he said, and then a finger was pushing through your folds as his thumb traced over your clit. 

You moaned as he pushed into you, a steady intrusion and just what you wanted. You rocked your hips into his touch, seeking more, deeper, and Javy chuckled. 

“Easy, baby,” he said softly, and you shook your head. 

“Need you, Javy,” you protested. His finger was thick, brushing into you, but you knew it wasn’t enough, knew it wasn’t what you needed. He grunted, shifting again, and then another finger was between your legs. Javy’s hand on your hip angled your hips downward, and your mouth fell open when he lifted his palm so you could grind your clit against it. 

His fingers inside you were pressing deep, stretching you, and you welcomed the width of them as you ground into his palm. 

“Baby, fuck,” you panted, and you felt his hips jerk up into you. 

Which had the opposite effect than what he had intended. 

Because his fingers were good, and his hand was good, and everything felt so fucking good– but you knew what was between his legs. And his hand wasn’t enough. 

“You need to be fucked, don’t you, honey,” Javy asked hotly, his voice low in your ear. You nodded desperately, your hips working against his fingers eagerly. He’d fill you so good, fuck you so full, and you needed it, needed him. 

You were overheating in your sweater, nearly wild with wanting him so bad, but you were taking everything he’d give you, always would. 

“Please, baby,” you whispered, and it sounded like a whine. You felt his hips press up again, an unintentional response, and your hips worked faster. 

“‘s too fast, sweetheart,” Javy said, but it sounded like maybe he was trying to convince himself too. “You’re not ready…”

You moaned, your head dropping to his shoulder. 

You knew he was right, knew you had to be worked up to taking his cock, but you wanted to be full of him, wanted to feel like his, wanted him to push everything else out of your mind with his dick. 

“Please,” you whimpered, unafraid to beg, and you felt Javy’s breath catch. 

“Cum for me first, honey, come on,” he said determinedly, and you would’ve scowled at him for his stubbornness, but he was working your body so fucking well. 

His fingers were pressing deeper inside of you, searching for the spot that would tip you over the edge. He knew when he found it because your whole body seized, and he fucking cooed, pleased and proud. His fingers worked faster inside of you, his palm grinding back into your clit, and you felt your body hurtling towards completion in spite of yourself. 

You whimpered his name, and Javy soothed you, his other hand falling to your ass again. He pressed you into him, shushing you as you trembled, and it was too much, too fast. 

Your orgasm broke through you, heat crashing over you as your boyfriend rocked you in his lap. You were shaking, you were pretty sure you were babbling, as Javy worked you through your orgasm, his strong fingers pulling steadily inside of you. 

You shuddered as you came down, the world fading from technicolor to the dark light of the rec center, and the ringing in your ears quieted enough to hear Javy murmuring praise into your ear. 

“So beautiful, honey, always so beautiful when you come. Fuck, you did so good, coming on my hand like that, such a good girl for me, always so good…”

You were pressed into his chest, and you snuggled closer to his warmth, temporarily sated. You felt Javy shift his hand, pull your panties back down before sliding his hand out from under your skirt. A moment later, you felt his chest vibrate, and when you pulled back to look, his eyes were closed, head tilted back, his fingers between his lips.  

“So fucking sweet,” he said, almost to himself, licking your orgasm off his fingers. You felt your core clench at the sight of it, at the everything of him, and you tilted your head up to him, needing his kiss. 

Javy acquiesced, and you both moaned when his tongue swept into your mouth, sharing the taste of your release. It was so hot, everything he did was so hot, and impossibly, you needed him again. 

You reached down between you, your fingers skating over velvet until you found his cock. He was fully erect now, trapped against his thigh, and when your fingers coasted over him, Javy’s breath caught. 

You hummed when his hips pressed up into your touch. 

Even without your body moving to encourage him, his thighs pushed his dick towards your hand, and you loved the feeling of him. Even through the soft material, he was so hard, so thick, and you were desperate for him. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Javy panted, and you loved it when he sounded like that, like he was barely clinging to sanity. 

“Don’t want to wait,” you trailed your hand up to his tip. You couldn’t feel the details of him through the suit, but you knew his cock, you knew where he was sensitive, and Javy groaned as you traced over him. He mumbled something into your sweater, but you couldn’t hear it. 

“Please, Javy,” you whispered, and he groaned again. 

His hands were on your waist, and they tightened when he pulled back. You were surprised by the truly forlorn look on his face when he looked up at you, and your hand paused, suddenly concerned. 

“I don’t have a condom,” Javy said dejectedly. “I’m sorry, honey, it felt pervy to put it in a pocket around all the kids and I–”

“We don’t need one.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but as soon as the words were out, you knew you meant them. You’d been exclusive for a couple months now, and you were tested regularly, and you trusted him. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted it– the more you needed it, the more you knew it was exactly what you needed.

Javy was so still underneath you. 

He was looking at you so closely, hope and caution warring in his expression. 

“Are you absolutely certain, honey?” he asked, and the way he was double checking was all the confirmation you needed. 

You leaned down to rest your forehead against his, loving the way his eyes followed you, even this close. You lowered your head to his, pulling back slightly when he reached up to kiss you. 

“100%,” you said against his lips, and Javy moaned, something deep in his chest, the hottest sound you’d heard. 

He surged up to kiss you, and you felt dizzy from the lingering taste of you on his tongue. When he pulled back, you were both breathless, just shy of giddy.   

“You want me to fuck you bare, sweetheart?” he asked, and his soft question made you shiver. 

“Please,” you managed, and Javy huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. 

“You’re gonna let me into that pussy raw?” he breathed, and you squirmed in his lap. You wanted him so badly, needed to feel him, just him. “Gonna let me fill you up, feel this cock press all the way into you?”

“Javy,” you moaned his name, fully wanton, unable to say anything else. 

Your hips were already rocking into him, craving the stretch of him. 

He seemed to understand, guiding you back to stand on his boots, while he shifted, sliding the suit pants down his thighs, along with his underwear. The red velvet pooled over his boots, brushing the tops of your feet, but you barely noticed. Instead, your eyes were trained between his thighs, where his dick was resting against his stomach. 

He had such a pretty cock. 

Long and heavy, curved slightly to the side, a plump head that felt absolutely unreal when it breached you. You were practically salivating for it, and you pressed your thighs together as you balanced on his boots. 

“Now you,” he prompted, and he helped you out of your sweater and skirt. A moment later, you felt Javy pull your panties off, now with no worry for the suit. 

He dropped the thin fabric to the ground and you stepped out of it, his fingers curled up to cup you. God, you loved how he touched you, so certain and steady, like him. You clutched his shoulder for balance, and Javy’s hand tightened over your pussy, pulling him to you by your pussy. 

You might as well have been on a leash. 

You could feel your legs trembling, you wanted him so bad. He guided you back onto his lap, your legs spread over his thighs again, but it was different now, because you could feel him. When you settled, your core brushed against his hot cock, and you both hissed out a breath. Desperation seemed to build between you, and Javy finally, finally let go of you, reaching down to hold his cock steady as you lowered yourself towards him. 

“Give me that pussy, baby,” he commanded, his voice low, and you wanted nothing more. 

When you felt the first press of his fat cockhead between your legs you felt like weeping. It was the smallest brush, but he was so thick, so broad, a promise. You held your breath as you lowered yourself down, a high-pitched moan working out of you when the head of him was fully inside you.  

“Ah, honey,” Javy breathed. 

It sounded like he was praying, and you understood, because it was just the tip of him, but already you were dizzy with how full you felt. 

You looked between the two of you, at the vision of his fat cock pressing into you and you moaned again. You looked so good together; it was amazing that he fit, that you could take him. You could feel his eyes on you, knew he was watching your face as you were watching where you were joined. 

“It’s so good, Javy,” you whispered, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. Your nails were probably leaving marks, not that either of you cared. 

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Javy said, his voice hoarse, “it’s so fucking good. How does my dick feel inside you, just me, so close to you?”

Your eyes closed and your jaw fell slack as pushed yourself farther onto him. The stretch neared on painful but nowhere near painful enough to make you stop. You felt him, like he said, you felt so close to him. It felt perfect, like you were made for this stretch.

“Halfway, baby,” Javy encouraged, and you practically choked at his words. 

Fuck, you thought you were farther along than that; it felt like you’d gotten farther along than that. 

But when you opened your eyes, there were still inches left of his cock, thick, searing length that you needed to fit inside of you. Javy’s hands rubbed encouraging circles on your back, and you realized your thighs were shaking. It felt like you were boiling, melting, but you knew you couldn’t stop, knew you needed to take all of him. 

Still, you couldn’t stop your whimper, “It’s too big, baby.”

Javy’s hips jerked up at your words, and his head fell back against the throne as he forced himself down, to be still. You both groaned at the ground that gave you, and Javy’s chest rose and fell rapidly. 

“You can do it, honey, you’re doing so good for me, so damn good,” he gritted, and you loved him so much. 

Loved that he was fighting for control but he still found breath to encourage you, soothe you, care for you. Your face felt wet, from sweat or tears, you couldn’t tell, but you made it the final few inches. 

When your shaking thighs met Javy’s legs, you both let out a trembling breath, and Javy wrapped his arms around you tightly. 

“Just stay here for a moment, sweetheart,” he whispered, and you lay your head on his shoulder, resting. 

You were so full. 

So sated, so absolutely content, like all you ever wanted to be was in this moment. You wanted to wrap this feeling up, remember it forever, this closeness. This perfection. 

Javy’s hands were still moving slowly up your back, his fingers pressing gently over you. You recognized he was breathing deeply, whether to help you monitor yours or because he needed to be controlled, you weren’t sure. 

You felt out of your body. 

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, but it was long enough for the stretch to ease and your body to adjust. As you accepted him, as you welcomed him, your head cleared slightly, and you became aware of the gnawing need at your core. 

You needed him to move. 

You shifted in his lap, just slightly, and Javy’s breath punched out of him, as you clenched around him. 

“Jesus, honey, warn a man,” he choked, and you smiled. 

“Can’t help it,” you said, honestly, “just feels too good.”

“You’re telling me,” he murmured, turning towards you. 

He kissed you slowly, languidly, his tongue pressing between your lips as he gently pushed his hips upward. You felt your limbs go lax; he wasn’t even pumping but he was so damn deep inside you. It felt like a caress, something gentle and sacred, and you rested on him. 

He pressed up again, and he broke the kiss, his warm breath coasting over your lips. 

“Feels fucking unreal, honey,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re so tight, so wet. God, I can feel every inch of you like this, feels like heaven.”

You hummed your agreement, turning your head to kiss along his jaw. Your lips brushed over his jawline, your tongue tasting his sweat, kissing him lightly as he rocked slowly into you again. Time felt like molasses, seeping so slowly by, and everything was distilled to the press of his hips into yours, of his cock straining inside of you. 

You whispered his name, and his hands slipped from your back to your waist. 

“Need something, honey?” Javy asked, and you whined in response. 

He was slow and steady, unhurried, stoking that heat inside of you. It was perfect, it was killing you, you needed more.

“Do you think,” Javy’s voice was still breathless, but took on a teasing lilt, “you were naughty or nice this year?”

You swatted at him weakly, his chest already huffing as he laughed. 

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled, turning to a moan at another gentle rock.

“You know I’d know if you’d been bad or good,” he said, amusing himself even as you squirmed on his cock. “I’ve got a list.”

“I swear, Javy–” 

“Do you think you’ve been a good girl for Santa?”

God, he was such a dork, but he was also so hung, and you couldn’t handle both at once. But then Javy’s hands wrapped under your ass again. Before you could sigh in relief, he lifted you up, strong arms fully pulling you off his dick, and then thrusted up into you. 

You screamed. 

You couldn’t help it, you felt it so much, so deep, so fucking full of him, and Javy’s proud laugh turned to a groan as you clenched around his cock. He’d scrambled your brain with his dick, that was the only explanation, because you were moaning and you felt every limb shaking, and you needed him to do it again. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted someone to hear us,” he chastised you gently, and you whimpered at his words. 

You both knew no one was left in the rec center, probably not even the parking lot, but fuck if the idea of someone walking in on you fucking your boyfriend on this throne of his didn’t turn you on even more.  

Javy sighed, something awed. “Is that it, honey? You want someone to see you? Want someone to walk in on you milking this bare cock? Want someone to watch me shove it so deep into your pussy, see how badly you need it?”

He lifted you again before you could respond, his strong arms pulling you up and then bringing you back down into his lap, his cock thrusting deep into you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only want more, need more. You felt something drip out of your mouth, realized belatedly you were literally drooling. 

Javy swore when he felt it, too, and his hips moved faster. He held you steady as he pushed up into you, slamming his hips up to meet yours. 

It was fast, it was rough, it was so, so deep, and you could only think that you needed him to keep going. 

Javy was grunting with each thrust of his hips, a gorgeous sound that had your mind racing. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass as he drove into you, so deep, and you scrambled for purchase, your hands clinging to the back of the throne, anything for leverage as he pumped into you. 

“I wouldn’t care,” Javy said, almost growled, and you felt your core clench tighter on him at that tone in his voice. “Fucking Simpson could break in now, honey, and I wouldn’t care, I couldn’t stop. You think anything could stop me now that I’ve felt this bare cunt around my cock? Nah, it’s too good, it’s so damn good. Fuck, honey, you feel—”

He broke off, and you felt his teeth bite into your shoulder, grounding himself as he drove into you. Vaguely you knew you were close, knew it in an abstract scientific way, because you could barely string two thoughts together, much less words. 

You could only cling to him, to your sweet, strong, Javy.  

“Riding me so good, baby,” Javy mumbled into your shoulder. “Being so good for me, honey, you’re always so good for me. My best girl, my beautiful, best girl. Sweetheart, I’m close, are you close?”

You nodded, or maybe you wailed, but you knew he could hear you, because his thrusts got more frantic. His thrusts were getting shorter, and you realized it was because he couldn’t reach as deep as he wanted, as fast as he wanted. Javy made a noise of frustration and his thighs flexed, then he was lifting you. 

Still impaled on his cock, he shifted you, turned you, and then your back was pressed against the cool surface of the throne. Javy was between your legs, then, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him back into you. 

“Please, baby,” you whimpered, and Javy groaned in response. 

“Anything, fuck, you know that, sweetheart, anything,” he whispered, and then he grabbed the throne. 

All you could do was take it. 

Lie in the space between his arms, between his legs, clinging to him as Javy gripped the throne for leverage and thrust into you. You were held firm as he thrust into you, the new angle causing his dick to brush against a spot inside you that had your toes curling. 

“Right there, Javy,” you cried, and you felt him press deeper, determined. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he panted, as his hips slammed into you. “God, you feel so good, I’ve got you… I know you feel good too, come for me, please..feels like fucking home in you, please honey, I need to feel you come–”

The throne was shaking with each of his thrusts and he pulled you even closer to him. Your body shook with each rutt of his hips, but as you molded to him, your clit brushed against the hard wall of muscle that was Javy. His cock hit that spot deep inside of you, your clit rubbed against his skin, and it was overwhelming, it was everything, it was enough. 

“Come with me,” you gasped, begged, feeling a blinding heat at the tips of your toes. Javy groaned, and you knew he wanted to protest, but as your body seized, you felt him tense with you.   

You cried out as you came, exhausted and overwriting and flying, but you felt it, felt him. Javy surged up to kiss you, his mouth locking on yours. You were too tired to kiss, too poised to respond, but so was he. And as you tipped over the edge, as you cried against his lips, Javy’s strong hips stilled, and you felt his chest heave as he pumped into you. Then you were warm, so warm, feeling his cum spill inside of you, feeling the world burn around you. It was everything, you and him, locked together and spiraling, shaking. 

You were so full. 

Javy collapsed against you, somehow finding the strength to push himself onto the throne beside you. You fidgeted, squirming until you were once again in his lap, panting and shaking, as Javy held you tight while your orgasms rolled over you. 

You were grateful for the Christmas lights. 

They were a gentle light, soft when you opened your eyes, illuminating Javy’s profile like a poem. Sweat slicked between both of your bodies, and you didn’t want to think about the state the suit was in. You could feel Javy’s heartbeat through his chest, a pounding rhythm, strong and steady as he was. 

You should get up. 

But you snuggled deeper into his chest, relieved by the deep breath you felt him draw. You both basked in the muted light, the warmth of each other's arms, and you decided the feeling was also the answer to Javy’s question– you’d been nice.

.............

Tagging some mutuals, some folks who asked for it, and general lovers of Javy: @daggerspare-standingby @blowmymbackout @teacupsandtopgun @mandylove1000 @callsign-fangirl @cheekymcgrath @goldenseresinretriever @mxgyver @laracrofted @coyotesamachado @wildbornsiren @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @roosterforme

[bananasofthorns]

listen grian. nobody touches my bush, you're Done. it all started when grian touched my redstone, he played himself li-li-like a xylophone set on automatic, doc monster is a savage, with technical skills and crazy vocal acrobatics i'm a legend of the nho with etho beef and double o doc mc is coming for you sevenfold we got rendog another fireman to douse the flames that they shoot at this leviathan iskall can try again

you think i'm in hidin i'm just bidin my time, puttin pen to paper comin up with rhymes yeah we're a star studded group that got together just to crush you once we start somethin you know we're gonna see it through i'm the knight the soldier who brings the fight at first light y'all had to incite so now i gotta indict you're guilty of gettin murdered with words, y'all are out gunned, go home Nerds (woo-hoo!)

hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang

if you think you can stop the symmetry that's false, g-team is dialling for help but i'm ignoring their calls and when their bodies dissolve you'll know that false is on a killin spree, try to stop my pvp and perish painfully. i'm the queen of hearts heads and body parts, your diamond armor can't compare to my martial arts i'll send a poison dart to make you breathe your final breathe, g-team's name will be the only thing left

caffeinated animated redstone innovator my behavior's crazy can't blame me, impulse is never lazy tango why did you betray me (what?) now my scope is aiming better run from cover from all the ghast balls that i be taming, without a sound without no hesitation my creations are amazing better watch your step or the g-team will end up blazing, who's the better team? there is no controversy but before it's said and done y'all be BEGGIN us for mercy (alright!)

hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang 

X gon give it to ya! i'm gon give it to ya! X gon give it to ya (whaaaaaaaat?) lyrical boxing dropping blows on all my foes and the g-team they're looking unclean needed some sunscreen, burnt my words to hurt this herd of nerds it's absurd how my rhymes got them injured, danger danger! i got lasers to cut em up like razors, it's flexing season and i've got flavor, no weak defenses like trenches and benches that these dense heads are presentin

(they're presentin em alright. they're not very good, i could walk over that, i could i could jump over that. use an ender pearl, my elytra, come on g team, geez)

hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang

now i'm back got some things i wanna say. what's the letter that starts the alphabet (A!) ladies get in like the diggity be on the way (skrt!) cleo don't know who she's freakin with! all the lines say to notify her next of kin this diggity dog be droppin bombs nothin but hits, spit that rhyme again (brrt!) cause the message is i can mumble rap and still be the best there is

hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang hermit gang

oh, you wanted me to do a verse? i'd have to check with g-team-- i mean, i'd have to check my. schedule. to see if i'm able to do that. (oh, oh, oh, bananas, oh, oh oh, bananas. oh oh oh bananas oh oh oh bananas, oh, oh, oh, bananas)

i really don't think it's best for me to even be a part of this song

[bengiyo]

Make it Right Rewatch Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

I have to do it, y'all. I've watched this like four or five times, but thinking so hard about My Only 12% and New's feelings about Love of Siam has me thinking about Make It Right and how that fits in. This project is fun because Cheewin is also involved. Yuan also ended up working on What the Duck.

It's really something how long teens have been uploading constant streams of their lives to the internet now.

Thailand has always done a good job with sibling dynamics.

Oh it's the lesbian friend. She ends up so disappointed in this show. I think it's interesting how there were nods to gay girls early in Thai BL before it all vanished.

The intro song for Season 1 is still in my top 3 for Thai BL. This song absolutely fucking SLAPS!

I'm feeling a happy sense of nostalgia watching this. I'm a whole adult now with a mortgage and a fancy TV. Thankful to the fans who saved this in 1080p. It still looks good.

Ah, yes, the beauty product placement.

I was definitely drawn to the casual physical intimacy between friends when I first watched this from jump when Fuse sits on Lukmo at school.

Young Ohm. We called it even then that he was a massive talent. Glad he was able to make something out of acting. Feels like most of this cast fell off.

Oh my god the whole scene of getting Fuse out of school to help Jean is still so surreal. New really understands masculine friendship. Helping your boys and risking getting into trouble to save the girl really does feel like this.

Casual reminder that we had more femmes in early Thai BL.

Yes, play the intro over the handshake with Lukmo. I will associate this with maximum friendship for the rest of my life.

It translates very well that Jean and her friends play the field (no shame), and also that Fuse is clearly younger than the older guys maybe more appropriate for her. Covering Fuse in debris also shows how messy and unready he is.

When I first saw this, I thought we were going to see Lukmo present a crush on Fuse when he suggested Fuse date a boy.

Boys chasing each other around snd threatening to fight is also very much high school.

Baby Plan!

Proximity Alert #1 in the first Rodtang scene. I do think we should get more BLs where a boy has feelings for one of the leads, gets disappointed, and ends up with one of their friends.

New teasing about the regimented existence in school and the ways it creates so many gay situations. This CPR class that requires the boys to take off their shirts?

I was always sad about Nine being recast in season 2. Something similar happened in Lovesick.

Where did Frame even get a bra from to put Nine in?

Hey, proximity alert #2. First teasing of Frame and Book.

It still bothers me that these boys are like 15 and getting wasted.

Oh shit, young Mean! I always forget he has a bit role in this show.

Finally, Tee is here. Oh, Boom, how I hoped to see so much more of you.

Ah, I forgot about the coin as the first sign for Tee that he maybe meant something to Fuse.

Oh the drunk acting isn't great, but I'm riding out the drama of, "Oh no. I don't know where be lives. I guess I'll take him home and watch him."

Tee really fireman carried Fuse to bed.

The Death of Junk Food shirt is sending me.

Tee definitely knew what he was doing when he undressed.

"Have you ever had sex with a guy?" immediately followed by the opening melodies of About Last Night. I have never gotten over this song and how effectively it gets used in this show. "Do you want to?" as the music builds and then pauses. "Yes," into the chorus. So good. They don't do it like this anymore.

Welcome back to Make It Right with me! I think instead of making unique posts for this, I'll just continue this as a thread to refer back to later. Much of this really holds up. It's about as good or better than a lot of the pulps of the last year.

[simeon-with-a-shotgun]

So in my dream that Solomon invaded (again)

I was chilling with Mammon in the HOL and Levi had said something about Squid Game, so I was like

"Idk levi, I feel like Mammon would body Squid Game if we entered him"

Mammon: if that's some fucked up game y'all have where I end up getting eaten by Lotan I'm out!

Me: MAMMON YOU'VE NEVER SEEN SQUID GAME??! WE CANT BE TOGETHER ANYMORE NOT VERY FIRST MAN OF YOU (joking)

*sounds of panicking distraught Mammon heard through the entire house*

Me: IM JOKING OMG IM SOREY MAMS HERE WELL WATCH IT RN!!😢

So we went to Mammons room bc his big ass projector and he was like setting up a blanket nest as I was hooking up my laptop to the projector when Solomon fucking kicks open the door

Solomon: HEY YOU WANNA HEAR HOW I BUILD MOUNT EVEREST BY HAND?!

Mammon: I wanna hear!!!

Me, to Solomon: No the fuck you didn't Solomon, even if you did then how come you had to use demons to build a measley little temple huh? Did your boyfriend (Asmo) give you too much demoneus or some shit?!

Solomon: YES I DID BUILD IT! IT WAS HARD😩 my hands almost froze of at some point!! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?!

Me: I smell fucking bullshit magic man!

Solomon and me, proceed to emotionally tear eachother apart, as Mammon just watches in horrors because hes never seen me angry before, it gets so bad Lucifer comes runnign down the halls thinking Levi and Mammon were trying to kill eachother again

Lucifer, a disappointed dad, not knowing what to do

Me: ASMODEUS COME GET YOUR HOE!!

*a wild asmo appears*

Asmo: I'll collect him darling😅🥰 go back to your wretched squid thing😘

Solomon being fireman carried over Asmo's shoulder screaming: THIS IS'NT OVER, I BUILT IT AND I WILL STOP AT NOTHING TO PROVE IT TO YOU!!

Me: DO YOU'RE WORST TEMPLE MAN! I SMELL YOUR BULLSHIT!

Memes that I made that fully capture the energy created in the studio

[msmc-796-official]

FC here, OP behind @msmc-796-official - I'll happily add my two cents to this. (Heads up, this is gonna be LONG - I'll put the brunt of it under a read more so as to spare y'all's eyes.)

My journey with Lancer started as a spur-of-the-moment hyperfixation for me back in May of this year, while I was looking for more new non-D&D TTRPGs to get into. The incredibly rich and detailed worldbuilding hooked me right away, and the fact that this wasn't yet another PbtA system hack gave me an entirely new set of dice tricks and mechanics to learn and play with.

I originally started this sideblog to interact with a few of the RP blogs in the community, using it as a chance to create yet another AU for one of my oldest OCs, Phoenix (or, as she's better known around here, Angel). Before long, Kennedi and Slipshod - both new and original characters specifically made for this setting - made themselves known, and the full picture of who MSMC-796 was as a group started to come together. (Cheesy as it sounds, it all just kinda clicked for me in a way that RP hasn't in a very long time.)

Just within these last few months, I've effectively gone from a curious nobody who knew absolutely nothing about Lancer to the de facto voice of MSMC in our little RP community. (All without ever playing a single game of Lancer for myself, believe it or not!) It's been absolutely wild to interact with so many amazing people in such a short time with this fandom, and the fact that this community is so welcoming definitely makes it easy for new folks to find their niche.

(RP tips under the Read More!)

As an old hand at RP, I can offer a few tips on how to establish yourself within a community like this:

1. Interact! RP is built on talking to people and putting yourself out there. 2010s Tumblr used to be all about ask blogs and RP, and sadly those ways have kinda been forgotten in favor of silently reblogging and/or liking a post and then moving on like so many other social media sites. Asks are your primary way of communicating with other people in a RP setting, and it's okay to put yourself out there!

If you scroll down all the way to my first posts on this blog, those posts are all reblogs of asks I sent to some of the wonderful folks in this community - among them being @albatross-lancer, @definitely-not-a-lucifer-clone, @autos-official, and @ips-northstar-official. (Sorry about all of the mentions, folks!) At the time, I only had a very basic knowledge of Lancer lore, but using the single page of MSMC lore included in the core rules and a little bit of improv, I started to develop Angel as a member of MSMC and established her now-signature sign-off - "yours among the stars".

You'll also notice that at some point, I started reblogging posts that I thought my characters would have thoughts on, commenting as them and adding little asides - also in-character - in the tags. (Yes, that's a bit excessive, I know, but this is why you read the tags, too!) Do that enough, and sometimes people interact back with you, which is really fun! That's how RP happens!

Which leads me into my second point...

2. Build your world. Right away when I started this blog, I knew that "Angel" (that is, the Lancer AU version of Phoenix) was going to be a core character. I also knew she was a member of MSMC, she was a Dusk Wing pilot, and that somewhere along the line her teammates would be introduced. You can see from my interaction with LUCI that a prototype version of Slipshod was already in the works - that mention of a Tokugawa pilot was intentional! Kennedi took a lot longer to come forward as a concept, but her character arc really took off after I made friends with @corsair-mc-official and @revvedandrunning during the Fireman Saga.

Basic questions for a new Lancer character might go as follows: Who is your pilot (name, gender, callsign, etc.)? What frame do they pilot, and does it have a name? What company do they represent (if any at all), and how do they feel about the others? Do they have a home planet (diasporan), or are they cosmopolitan? Do they have any NHPs or COMP-CONs or squadmates who might appear from time to time? Follow the line of inquiry and see where it takes you - you might get some surprising answers along the way.

It's okay if it doesn't all come at once - for me, a big step was figuring out who played what role in the squad and how to distinguish their voices via text. Personality plays a big role in how I RP, and you can see it with how all three of the girls talk to, with, and about each other. I'll openly admit there's a lot I still don't know about the girls of MSMC-796, and that's okay! Everything will come with time, as you get to explore who your characters are, how they feel, and what their passions are.

3. Be open to new friendships. If I hadn't seen the reblog of one of my posts from @corsair-mc-official, I'd likely have never started the Fireman Saga at all - they're really what created my first strong community connections and allowed the inter-company banter both of us are known for now to flourish. I've also gotten to know @whohasfourthumbsand really well post-Fireman, as their character Gray really clicked well with Kennedi - and if you've seen our recent posts in-character, Gray just officially joined MSMC because of that long-running interaction chain. Heck, @st-g2-084 took my one-off idea for MSMC-835 (as created in response to an in-character distress call ask I got from them) and has created an entirely unique identity for them within our little MSMC canon. You never know where unexpected connections can take you!

4. When in doubt, improvise. As I mentioned earlier, MSMC only has one full page of canonical lore in Lancer, featured on page 411 of the Core Rules (plus a short blurb on a hypothetical MSMC-aligned PC, Penny, on page 420). The naming conventions of MSMC-796 and its members come directly from the information included in those few paragraphs, with a little intuition on my end. Literally everything else - the names, numbers, and members of its 999 squadrons; the size and duties of MS Legal, Upper Management, Recruitment - all of that is 100% my own worldbuilding. I personally try not to deviate too far from the established lore, but when there's so little to work with, you really do have to make some big decisions.

That being said, if you're trying to create your own homebrew lore for Lancer, it's not a bad idea to read through the canon lore and see what already exists. For mercenary companies, MSMC is the only one that's fleshed out to any degree, but even within the canon text there are mentions of "many thousands of firms" just like it across the galaxy. Two are namedropped - Goblin Throne Industrial and the Golden Hand - but neither are fleshed out at all beyond a single mention of their name. That's a TON of open worldbuilding space to exploit, from big giant firms to rival MSMC itself to tiny companies just barely getting started. When in doubt, refer to what's already been written - there's a lot of answers in Lancer's core lore, but there's a lot intentionally left vague, too, and that's so people like us can build our own worlds and stories where the lore leaves off.

...wow, okay, that is a LOT of text. Sorry about that; I hope at least some of this word vomit is useful to you.

Like I said, I'm an old hand at this, but RP and worldbuilding take practice. I didn't become the voice of MSMC overnight (though it certainly feels like I did!), and Massif Press has no idea that I exist. At the end of the day, this is all one big passion project for me that I felt strongly enough about to share with the world, and it just so happened that people liked it enough not only to agree with me, but to ask me to do more.

Best of luck out there, Saxtor! I look forward to seeing your wonderful contributions to our community someday soon.

-- FC

OOC Question: in the past few months Lancer and all of the folks running fun little RP blogs here have swallowed my interest whole. I've been thinking about starting one myself (already have a character in mind from my current game).

So I guess my question is do you have any advice or interesting tidbits to share on the experience. This question also goes out to all the other blogs that I know will see this as well.

// OOC; shit, man, go for it!! the more blogs we get, the fuller our world becomes, and ive seen some of your writing on your blog- id be really, really stoked to see what you come up with! ive got advice, and ive got an interesting tidbit; first, the latter, ive really enjoyed learning about this little subcommunity's culture. maybe it's just how my silly brain works, but i adore learning the social dos and donts of a new community- what goes in the tags, how do you pace your story, etc. everyone has been so welcoming and patient, you learn as you go, and the hundreds of small stories playing out at once are so brilliant to see—

as for advice. what makes your lancer interesting? what makes your blog different; what's the hook? gray is a prosthetist, a less common specialization, with an underlying NHP plot (not the most brilliantly unique thing, but, interesting!). you gotta figure out what it is that'll make people want to interact with you, because, well, it's social media.

anyways, that sounds a little too serious; my best advice? it's a tumblr blog, not a tattoo. don't take it too seriously, and go make some friends :D